


Touch

by leere



Series: Shit I Write On Tumblr [13]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Body Worship, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6144504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leere/pseuds/leere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: prompt: pete kissing patrick's tummy and thighs / lowkey worshiping patrick's body like he deserves</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 2/15/16.

The first couple times, when Pete tries to shove Patrick’s shirt up, Patrick glares and firmly says, “The shirt stays on, Pete.” Pete pouts every time, even after he’s started to expect that response; he’s seen Patrick shirtless exactly four times, ever, in the three years he’s known him, and he knows his nipples are perky and pink and he totally wants to bite them, but he kind of can’t when Patrick won’t even take his goddamn shirt off ever.

So one day, after Pete’s fucked Patrick bareback, hard, he pulls out once he’s come and slides down the bed until he’s settled between his legs. Patrick hasn’t come yet, and he watches Pete with dark eyes, mouth open and lips red, panting softly. Pete loves that he gets to see this side of Patrick, this wanton, vaguely slutty Patrick that he highly doubts anyone else has ever seen. 

He pushes three fingers into Patrick’s ass, grinning when Patrick automatically groans and bears down on them. “You’re all wet, baby,” he grins, pumping his fingers into Patrick’s stretched hole. And he is, Pete’s not bluffing, he’s wet with lube and Pete’s come and Pete can’t get hard again for a while, but his dick twitches when something possessive curls in his stomach at the sight of it leaking out.

He briefly wraps his lips around the head of Patrick’s cock, just a tease, but it makes Patrick’s hips jerk up and Pete grins when he pulls off and Patrick whines. He starts leaving kisses on Patrick’s thighs, loving the way he spreads them instantly. 

“My little slut,” he says affectionately, and Patrick clenches hard around his fingers. Pete looks up, to make sure Patrick’s not offended or anything, but he sees he’s biting his lip hard and staring down at Pete, hair in his eyes, looking debauched as hell, lips swollen and cheeks pink.

“Please do something,” he begs, and his voice is wrecked from the throat-fucking Pete gave him not even an hour ago. 

“Let me see your chest and stomach then,” Pete says smoothly. He knows exactly what he wants and he knows exactly how to get it.

Patrick’s brow furrows, something like anger clouding his face, but Pete curls his fingers up hard against Patrick’s prostate and he’s nodding vehemently, begging, “Please, please, please, come on, Pete, please,” and Pete can’t say no to Patrick pleading like that.

Pete uses his free hand to deftly undo the buttons of Patrick’s shirt, then pushes it open and stares at his chest, at his belly. Patrick blushes under his gaze, and the flush doesn’t just stay on his face, moving down to his body, until his chest’s tinged with a faint pink and Pete can’t help but grin.

“Why were you so insecure about your tummy, babe? I love it.” Pete lays down so his face is pressed to Patrick’s stomach, feeling soft hair against his cheek. He closes his eyes and sighs contentedly.

“Don’t call it a fucking tummy,” Patrick grumbles, shifting uncomfortably. He clenches around Pete’s fingers again, like he’s trying to remind Pete that they’re in his ass. As if he’d forgotten. “Please just get me off already.”

Pete turns his head to smile into Patrick’s stomach and then kisses it, nuzzling his nose against it affectionately.

“Oh my God, stop it. You’re so weird.” When Pete looks up, Patrick looks annoyed and a little uncomfortable. Pete glances down to see Patrick’s going a little soft. “Your hand. My dick. Please.”

Pete glances longingly at Patrick’s nipples - another day, for sure - before sliding down again so he’s face to face with Patrick’s dick. A few strokes has it hard again, and from there it’s not too hard to get Patrick to come. Pete thrusts three fingers in and traces Patrick’s rim with his tongue, other hand awkwardly pumping his cock, and Patrick arches up and comes hard, all over his own stomach. Pete makes a point to lick every last bit of it off Patrick’s belly, and Patrick frowns at him while he does. 

“You’re so fucking weird,” he says when Pete finally curls up beside him.

“You might be embarrassed about being a little chubby or whatever,” Pete starts, and Patrick winces, “but I love it. It’s you, Patrick, and I love you, nothing’s going to change that, whether you’re as skinny as, like, Bill Beckett, or 200 pounds, I don’t care. You’re Patrick. You’re perfect in any shape or form or whatever.”

Patrick gets a little teary at that, and he smiles and kisses Pete sweetly, though he doesn’t bother replying; he lets Pete fall asleep cuddling up to his stomach, and it’s I love you, too enough.


End file.
